Waiting

Outside is a shaken snow dome of whirling flakes which drift by the window, like dandelion seeds blown by the wind. The flat roof opposite pools; the flakes don’t have a chance to settle down. Sat at the laptop, I’m staring into white world, feeling a little frustrated by making applications for jobs, each interview a hope – life seems a little like waiting on hold to pay a bill: you are never quite sure when you will get through – so you drink coffee, read, do whatever you can – while listening on repeat.

An endless cycle.

Last year I planted daffodils, a promise of Spring, expecting tall golden yellow on green. But find I have tiny, resilient, jaunty ones, jutting their noses above the pinkish terracotta pots. At first I was disappointed, but their cheerful optimism seems good to me. I find a little optimism and cautious resilience returning too.

Not without medication though.

I’ve spent my life avoiding the stuff. I have battled and fought, learning how to stay healthy. But I’m surprised – they seem to provide a scaffolding; like the cage of hoops and pins around a badly broken leg; much less visible thankfully. I’m grateful though I can’t see a way forward yet – just the green tips of new plants – a contract extension. A little more pay.

Just enough to make me feel less abandoned, a tiny bit more hopeful and secure.